When Life Gives You Rotton Lemons
by MaoIsSleepy
Summary: Life can throw some pretty unexpected twists your way, but it's up to you to decide how to handle them. You very well could mess up big time, like me. OC. SI.
1. (Re)Birth

**Hello! Please read this and tell me what you think! **

**I was sort of inspired for a SI with someone reborn into the Naruto world by two wonderful works of art;**

**'**_Dreaming of Sunshine_**', by Silver Queen, and **_'Iryo-nin Kasa'_**, by Vaengir. If you haven't read them, check them out! They're a million times better than this!**

**Anyway, I don't see this character as myself, but she is a girl from our world, so I'm labeling this as a SI.**

**I apologize in advance for any spelling or grammatical mistakes.**

**Enjoy!**

**Summary: Life can throw some pretty unexpected twists your way, but it's up to you to decide how to handle them. You very well could mess up big time, like me. OC. SI.  
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**Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.**

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><p>My first breaths shattered the air as cries. Brightness soaked through my eyelids, making it impossible to crack them open. I was blind, suddenly cold, and all I could hear was muffled screams. I knew that they were mine, but my ears were underdeveloped, making them seem distant. My vocal chords were instantly sore from a lack of endurance. My first breaths were not easy ones.<p>

Actually, they were not really my first.

There was warmth surrounding me the next instant. I relished in its presence, wishing it was closer. Whatever it was, it was breathing. I felt its heart beat more than I heard it.

At one point, after an indefinite amount of time, color began to form and shape in my sight. My eyes had been opened all along, I realized, they just needed adjusting. No, they needed developing. Everything was blurry and strange, especially the face leaning over mine. There were dark features, I could tell, that of a woman, but the rest was undecipherable. There was a rumbling; she must have said something.

There was an roaring fire in my chest that I could not ignore. Rather than hurt, it felt comforting. It buzzed through my entire body, warming me in tandem with the woman. Suddenly, something cold snaked along arms and legs, constricting my chest. I cried harder as the fire was diminished, put out, suffocated, concealed. I wanted it back, but it never came.

After the confusion and madness, my memories hit me like a truck. They crashed around me and flooded my head like a breaking dam.

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><p>I was twenty-four when I died. It was a sudden, gruesome death that ripped me away from the world. It was a car accident, I think, but it all happened way too fast. I think it was one of those deaths where no one was at fault, and it just happened for no reason.<p>

This made an anger bubble inside of me. There wasn't a_ reason_ for it to happen, it just_ did_. I didn't _have_ to die. I didn't _have_ to lose my family, my friends, or even my cat. But I did, and suddenly I was small and crippled and blind and deaf. I couldn't talk or understand what these new people were saying, whether it was because they were speaking gibberish or because I couldn't maintain coherent thoughts. I was kept in the hospital for only a week, however.

When I got 'home', I realized what had happened to me.

I was a baby again, reduced to a helpless child who could do nothing for herself, and it was infuriating. This warm woman leaning over me was my mother, but not my mother who I loved. She was a stranger that only loved me because she thought I was her child. I couldn't tell her otherwise. By the time that I could have if I wanted to, it was too late.

While it was the woman that I saw most often, there were two others that I slowly began to recognize; a handsome man, who was no doubt my father, and another child. While it was a boy, he was cute enough to be a girl. He looked exactly like our mother, with dark hair and big brown eyes. He couldn't have been older than three, but he treated me with the care and grace of an adult. He was such a gentle, smart kid, and I instantly liked him. I didn't love him like my old brother, but I was at least thankful that my new one wasn't a mischievous brat.

My days as an infant were a blur, one right after the next, but as they happened, they seemed to last forever. I did not enjoy being so dependent on others. I didn't like not being able to walk or run or play. This new woman fed me, bathed me, clothed me, and carried me everywhere. I was often bored to the point of tears. I sometimes cried just so someone would come and speak to me, or pat my head. It was selfish, I knew, but when I could do nothing but sit or lay down, entertainment became a necessity. Luckily my brother seemed to adore me, so he would be my playmate. With my reduced attention span, games like 'peek-a-boo' were a lot funnier than they used to be.

Eventually my thoughts became thicker and less elusive. I could keep them organized enough to begin to piece things together.

I recognized enough of my family's gibberish to realize that they were, in fact, speaking Japanese. I knew some words, but they were very few in comparison to the whole language. My brain was wired to English, so picking up on what they were saying was much harder for me than other children. By the time I could actually crawl, my mother was coaching me to say 'Kaa-san'. That was a simple word, one that was repeated and used enough for me to pick up. Nii-san and Tou-san were also used. It as easier for me, in the end, to use these words instead of the ones I was familiar with because it didn't feel like I was replacing my old family. I tried not to think about them too often, but it was difficult not to when you have nothing to do the entire day.

When it came to the newer phrases, however, I became a confused, grumbling mess, which was normal for a baby, but as I grew older and still could not learn simple words and phrases, my mother and father became increasingly worried. Not that I could understand them, but they conveyed concern in their eyes and faces. Maybe they feared I would have a speech impediment or become dumb, but one day, they took me to the hospital. At this time, my sight had greatly improved, and my brain could make connections.

I was supported upright in my mother's lap while she sat on a white, sterile bed. My father was there next to her, holding my brother, since he was too young to be home alone, and baby-sitters did not seem to be a thing in this world.

A man in a pale smock entered the room not long after us, a clip board in hand. He reiterated what seemed to be scripted questions, and then he turned to me when my parents had given him the answers. He didn't seem very threatening, but a premonition had me wary of him. He placed his hand on my forehead to take my temperature.

That's what I thought he was doing, but it wasn't. His hand buzzed and glowed with a warm blue energy. I gaped at it.

That's...

I began to breath so rapidly that my parents thought I was hyperventilating, which I very well may have been, and grew slightly panicked. The doctor tore his hand away, canceling the blue light. I looked up at his face, not realizing with my low vantage point and small height, I had barely looked at people's faces. This man had a Hitai-ate on his forehead.

Like from Naruto.

But he didn't have the leaf on his headband. He wasn't from Konoha. He was marked with four waves.

I was in Kirigakure.

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><p>On our way home, I saw everything we had just passed by thirty minutes ago in a whole new light. The bustling streets of town became abandoned, replaced with starving beggars with no homes. No wonder I was taken to the hospital as a last resort. Normally worried parents jumped the gun on medical advice. The tall building now looked ransacked and old, and the streets were dirty with trash and sick orphans. It was terrible here, and I hadn't noticed before. In my mind, the doctor's nonthreatening face became a jaded one. The snow that settled onto the ground signified pain instead of beauty.<p>

I didn't want to be here anymore.

...

Although my schedule at home only changed in regard to how often my mother taught me the language, everything seemed different. Father was never home anymore, no doubt working tirelessly to support his growing family in the Bloody Mist. Mother was warily locking doors and keeping watch through the window for suspicious activity. Even my brother, who was four, never left the house to play with friends. The poor, gentle, kid. He never once complained. Home just wasn't safe, especially since neither of my parents were Shinobi. That meant I would never be one either, but that didn't bother me as much as I thought it would. If I were in Konoha, that would have been a different story, however.

It took a month or two for some of the new information to sink in, like the fact that I had been reborn into the Naruto world. I was in a world of fighting and war and death and sadness. I was in Kirigakure, not Konoha, so the everyday violence was ten-fold.

What time had I been born in? Did Naruto or Sasuke even exist at all? I decided then, at such a very young age, that no one could know what I knew about this world, whether it held true or not. It could mean death. Or torture.

Though it took me a year to decipher, mother had informed me through baby talk that I was a sick child, but she loved me anyway. I didn't know what she meant by that since I felt fine, but it wasn't like I could ask her. Later, 'sick' was used in tandem with 'Chakra sensitive'.

I was two, and barely ever left the house. I noticed Father and mother fight often, something they tried to hide, but my twenty-six year old mind could easily understand. With my growing vocabulary, I could actually grasp what some of them were about. Father accused Mother of cheating on him. He said he thought so because I didn't look like him. Mother argued, obviously hurt, that she would never do that. I had fair hair because I was sick, she said. I had been born with black hair. Mother was telling the truth, of course. I didn't know what I had looked like when I was first born, but in my old life I had been born with brown hair that turned blonde. The brown was dark enough to be seen as black, I supposed. I hadn't seen a mirror in a while, but my hair had grown long enough for me to examine it without one. It was now a soft blonde, very different from my new family, who all had black hair. I had retained my old appearance. At least I was fortunate enough that our eyes were the same brown, or father would never have been appeased by mother's reasoning.

My wonderful brother, since he could have no friends, spent quite a long time with me. He spoke to me and taught me little things that I didn't know, or secretly did. Often times he played with my hair. For a little boy, he was good with styling, and while he never did anything with his own, he loved to brush mother's and my hair.

"Your hair is so fair and pretty, Saori," he would coo to me. He showed me all kinds of buns and braids, my favorite being a bun that was shaped like a rose. I wore it like that most days. While I couldn't do it on myself yet without it looking like it was done by a two year old, which it was, Nii-san could do it perfectly each and every time. It took me a while to notice, like with most things, but I had grown very fond of my new family, especially my brother and mother. They were wonderfully kind people. I didn't know what father was like, because he was rarely home. I didn't know what he did, I just knew that he wasn't a ninja. Perhaps he was a fisherman? Some of the large ships are gone for weeks on end. I think mother was lonely.

The days went by faster when I could somewhat walk. I began exploring the house and really got to know the landscaping. Mother and Nii-san began to take me outside for chores, like the laundry. I hadn't been happier since I died.

The rest of the year went by in a joyous flash.

I was three when I realized who my new family members were.

While not all families did it, some parents called and referred to their eldest child as their child. Mother always called my brother Nii-san, and very seldom used his real name. This was because surnames were what people were called as, but families all share surnames, so it could be confusing. I had heard mother call Nii-san by his real name several times, but it didn't really click until a certain incident.

The three of us were hanging the laundry to to dry outside. A light snow was underneath our feet, and Nii-san and I were a little distracted with playing in it to really help, but mother just smiled at us lovingly. It was a lighthearted day. Nothing terrible had happened in the village for a while, crime rates were going down, albeit slightly, and Tou-san had come home the day before. He was resting in the house, exhausted.

After awhile, Nii-san must have felt guilty for leaving all of the work for mother. He lightly scolded me and went to help her. I was a selfish child, however, and figured that she could do a few clothes by herself just this once. I wanted to play some more, but I couldn't refuse with words. I was getting better at understanding Japanese, but forming the sentences and words wouldn't be happening anytime soon. My brother was used to my muteness, but he wasn't taking no for an answer. I reached at my feet and molded some snow into a ball, ignoring my numb fingers. I hurled it at my him, catching him in the back. I had been aiming for his head, but my weak arms were uncoordinated. I was lucky I hit him at all. He turned back towards me with suppressed mirth in his eyes.

"Saori!" he exclaimed. I did my best to appear innocent. Acting way too mature for a six year old (heck, acting more mature than me, and I was twenty-seven), he laughed at me and turned back around.

I pretended to pout, but was quickly grinning again as I picked up more balled snow. It brushed off of his shoulder. He paused, turning slowing once more to eye me. I stuck my tongue out at him, egging him on. He just broke down and smiled.

"We'll play after we're done, I promise," he vowed. He spun around again to help mother, who was chuckling at our antics. Thinking that I was clever, I bent over for more snow. This one would have hit him square in the head. But it didn't. At the last second, my brother flipped around and stuck his hand out to catch to flying snow ;it was an extremely graceful maneuver. However, the snow never even touched his skin. It hovered in the air, not connected to him, but it was obvious that he was controlling it. It melted into a liquid, like a beautiful blue sapphire. He was giggling and laughing at my shocked face.

"Haku!" Mother shrieked. Before my mind could start working again, she reached to him from the clothing line and slapped my brother across the face. She gripped his arm, shaking him off of his feet. "Don't ever do that again, you wretched child! Never again!"

Haku didn't make a sound, scared, and shocked.

Mother looked stricken as well. She was frozen, with tears pooling in her eyes.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered, dropping to her shaking knees. She nestled Haku's head and hugged him, whimpering like he _should_ have been. "Please, forgive me, dear..."

My brother had confusion in his eyes, but he hugged her back without question.

"Of course, Kaa-san."

I hadn't noticed, until they both looked to me, that I was crying as well, silently. Mother motioned to me, desperately, like she still wanted to be a good mother. I ran to them and joined into the embrace.

"Listen to me," Mother whispered. "That ability must never be used again. Never." She glanced between the two of us, pleading us to heed her warning. We nodded.

I only had eyes for my brother, who smiled at me like nothing was wrong so that I wouldn't worry about him.

Haku...

You poor, poor child.

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><p>I knew what happened next. Not being able to do anything is the worst feeling in the world. Did I stop it? Did I let it happen to protect the future? <em>Was<em> there a future?

I thought about it for the rest of the day. It didn't even occur that it was too late, and that there was nothing I could do. Three years is a long time to go without reading Naruto, so of course events and time lines were fuzzy, but it had been even longer since I had read the beginning of the series. I couldn't remember much about Haku, and they didn't exactly refresh my memory when they brought him back with the Edo Tensei jutsu. How long did I have until his father... _our_ father... Suddenly I felt as sick as my family thought I was.

I figured it would be weeks. Maybe days. But it was only hours. In my panicked state, I hadn't been able to think of a plan. How come this had to happen?

Mother brought us inside immediately after the... Incident. She carried my on her hip and guided Haku by hand, trusting him to carry the now empty laundry basket. She quickly shoved us through the door, locking it behind her, and scuttling us to the living room, where Tou-san had been sleeping an hour before. She seemed tense when he had been replaced by a piece of paper, but upon reading it, she greatly relaxed. He must have gone out and left a note. She smiled wanly down at us, Haku in particular.

"You're father went to buy some groceries. Would the two of you like to help me prepare for the rest of supper with what we have?" We nodded, Haku easily returning to normal. I knew he was acting, and that I should have done the same, but I was still kind of freaking out, at least internally. I was probably wide-eyed for an hour.

As I pretended to help by throwing carrots and potatoes into a prepped pot (that wasn't really helping, but I was three) my mind ran hurdles. Maybe, since I was here, father hadn't seen anything at all. Maybe I had made the Incident come earlier. After all, he hadn't even been home.

He didn't come home for two hours.

The sun was setting, and mother's hope set with it. She watched through the window as her happy life ended. I watched her.

"Kaa-san?" I questioned. I didn't speak much, so when I did, it was as if everyone stopped and listened. This time my little voice didn't register.

It was dark when she saw the mob. Mother's will was crushed. She gripped our hands and lead us into the basement, which was more of a cellar. Underneath the stair was an empty niche, and it would have fit both of us, but it was too obvious of a hiding spot. She lead me to a trunk, opened it, and removed some old photographs. Working fast, she helped me inside, kissed me on the head, squeezed my hand, and shut the lid. There was only room for me. I peeked at her through the lock hole, crying silently.

"I love you, Saori."

Then she helped Haku behind a vase. Both he and I were too large to fit inside of them, but their shadows helped hide him.

She left us there, and we never saw her again.

And it ate me up, because it was my fault.

Haku's spot was easily more noticeable than mine. As crashes and bangs and screams of fear and hate rang upstairs, I cowered inside of my safety, only worried about myself. I could hear their heavy footsteps as the mob descended on the stairs. There were seven men. Mother must have been killed already.

Father was leading the other men to us, checking the niche under the stairs first, and then scanning the room. I watched as two men approached my trunk. They slipped their finger under the lid. My breath hitched and my heart stopped.

I was going to die again...

And then one of the vases moved, demanding all of their attention. Haku jumped from behind it and darted up the stairs. Father caught him.

I looked away and sank into a ball for the rest. Haku had just _saved_ me, had just _sacrificed_ himself for me, and I fucking did _nothing_. I didn't even look at him.

It all took seconds to go down, but it took minutes for my brain to register what the sounds meant.

Father screamed, and people yelled his name. Someone ran up the stairs, someone light, and six others followed him.

I peeked through the lock once more when my cowardly shaking ebbed. It came back tenfold.

Father had bled out in the middle of our cellar, a spike of ice in his chest. In a haze, scrambled out of the trunk, landing painfully on my knees. It was difficult to crawl around the body without looking at it. I would lose my supper if I didn't leave quickly. I made my way upstairs. The mob was gone, in and out like the wind.

Mother was dead by the door, killed execution style. Red seeped through her clothes. She was gone in one sense.

Haku was gone in another.

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><p>I spent three weeks scouring the streets for my brother. My poor, poor, brother, who I should have realized how much I loved sooner. Maybe I had gotten him killed. Maybe he survived and was found by Zabuza already, which would explain why he hadn't come to get me at home. It wouldn't have a made a difference, however, since the rest of the mob had arrived after I thankfully had the sense to leave the house. They burned my home to the ground, its happy memories along with it. Haku must have thought that I was dead.<p>

So I looked for him, I really did, but the time passed by, and my hope began to die. I had nothing anymore. It was like my new life was over too, like my second chance hadn't really been a second chance at all. It was a curse.

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><p>It was cold. It was something that I wasn't always familiar with, something that would have killed me before. Now it was normal.<p>

The Hidden Mist was relentless, I had learned - I _had_ to have learned. Children with no homes were nothing new. I wouldn't get sympathy. People walked by everyday, every hour, and not one had ever even spared me a second glance - not even a first glance.

Snow drifted from the sky peacefully, but I knew that it meant another terrible night. Another freezing night.

The sun was setting, painting the clouds pink and orange. It was beautiful, but it ironically signified death; it meant that night was near. Perhaps it wasn't so ironic, then. Bright colored frogs and mesmerizing flowers often meant danger as well. Beauty was cruel. I had experienced the dark and cold before; I had just _last night_, and the night before. Nighttime meant going to sleep, and never waking up.

Beautiful things meant death.

This became especially apparent when I met the boy who I shared an alley with. He had had a coat, a thin one, and luxurious, blackened gloves. They had holes in the fingers but were ultimately one of the most wonderful things I had seen in such a long time. He had found them in a trash can that we shared.

I spoke to the boy very little, barely even looked at him, even when we spent two whole weeks in the same street. He hadn't been aggressive, so I could stay there as long as I didn't steal from him or somehow lessen his findings. He had made it clear the moment that we crossed paths, _before_ he had discovered the gloves, that he got first pickings every time the trash was taken out, about every other day. I got to choose from the scraps. The scraps of the scraps. He usually didn't leave much for me, perhaps hoping that I would leave on my own. But those who were hungry in the other alleys and streets fought and hit me until I was numb.

Nothing was better than hate. The boy treated me with an ignorance that was actually rather innocent in the alleys.

Our alley happened to be a very desirable one. The trash can made a niche that could block the wind, and that was where the boy slept. I had settled into a small hole where two layers of bricks had worn away. If I leaned into it, my arms were protected. It was better than nothing, and 'Nothing' was better than hate.

After about three days, we were more comfortable with each other. He started to fall asleep first, every once in a while. He wasn't as cruel when he rummaged through the trash, leaving me at least one thing that he normally would have taken for himself.

I leaned into my hole, remembering. Dreading night.

The day he found the gloves, the day before this, he abandoned the trash in a panic, returning to his niche. He had left several bites worth a food, something that he never would have missed or let me have. I saw the gloves when he slipped them on, even though he did it stealthily. They were beautiful. He didn't notice that I saw them. If he had, I was sure that he would resort to kicking me out of the alley. So I pretended that nothing was out of the ordinary, pouncing on the garbage like I normally would. I didn't question the extra bites. I didn't send him any looks. He made sure that I fell asleep first that time. I drifted into a painful unconsciousness, and the last thing that I remembered seeing was a hopeful smile on his dirty face.

This morning I awoke to find the boy's head smashed against the wall. Blood painted the garbage can, wall, and pavement like a canvas. It was still sticky, but not wet anymore. The gloves were gone.

I wondered why I was left, untouched and alone, but when I looked down at myself, I figured it was because I had nothing to offer. I was four, and skinny. I had no food, and nothing beautiful.

'Nothing' was better than hate.

Beautiful things meant death.

The boy's body was still there, like it had been all day. I couldn't bring myself to move it. I couldn't even move my own body. I reasoned that it was best to conserve my energy, since food was scarce. The men who took out their trash were late. I spent that whole day in my nook, waiting for them. and now darkness was about to fall.

The fresh snow dusted my hair and clothing. I debated in shaking or wiping it off, but past experiences told me that the body heat in my hands would melt it and soak my thin clothing. Of course, this would happen anyway, but it was my decision as to whether or not it would happen sooner or later. I chose later, trying to absorb the last of the sun's dying rays. My eyes drifted closed. I leaned further into the brick niche, shivering. I ran my hands up and down my arms.

This isn't fair.

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><p>My eyes flickered open, framed by snow flecked lashes. The night air bit my bare skin and the wind made my eyes water. The smell of death and blood attacked my nose. I wished someone would discover the boy's body so that I could stop deluding myself about why I couldn't do it myself, or rather, just leave the alley. I just didn't want to.<p>

I was beyond the point of shivering. Now it was just numbness and a dull, throbbing pain in my fingers, toes, and ears. my heart thudded much too slowly.

I stared at my bare feet.

It was too cold, the coldest night I had ever known. Was this winter? I didn't know, I had long lost all sense of time and dates. I at least figured that it hadn't yet been a year since... But seasons were often indecipherable because it snowed even during the spring and autumn. I climbed to my feet, even though I couldn't feel them. I needed to do something, or I would die.

It wasn't fair! I had just gotten my second chance. I had just gotten a new life, a redo. It was being ripped away, just like my old one.

I needed to do _something. _Each step that I took made me realize how far my body had begun to shut down. I was lightheaded and my sight was blackened.

I was just so cold.

Before my conscience could intervene, my survival instincts forced my body to move on its own accord.

My chapped, bare hands reached around the boy's body. I struggled for nearly twenty minutes, undressing the boy. I slipped his thin coat on over mine and ripped his shirt into scraps, wrapping them around my feet and hands. I used his pants as a scarf. And then I sat in his niche by the trash can and flung him over my open side.

I was asleep before I registered the blood dripping on my face and shirtfront.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading! I hope that some of the time skips and such weren't too confusing. I kind of skipped around a lot.<strong>

**I would really love some reviews. Please, please, please, review!**

**~Mao**


	2. To Konoha

**Hello! Happy New Years, everyone! **

**Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto. **

**Enjoy!**

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><p>"Hey, little girl."<p>

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes again was the boy's lifeless face. I wasn't surprised, but regret squeezed my stomach dry of its contents, only for it to realize that it was totally empty. Ransacking a little boy's body and using him as a blanket? It was inhumane. At least I was alive. I told myself that I wouldn't have made it if I hadn't done what I did, even though I didn't really know that for sure. I looked at his little face, which framed by dark hair and features, wishing that I knew his name.

My conscience called me out and reminded me why I felt so guilty. I wasn't a four year-old, I was a freaking adult. I should have taken the responsibility to keep him feed or warm or…

I was so useless. And I didn't have the excuse of being a child.

The sun was in the sky but it was obstructed by the snow clouds, which lightened their load even in the morning. It was still early, so not many villagers were in the streets, not that Kiri had very many who left their protective homes for the harsh weather and… Other dangers. Many had learned to complete their 'last minute' winter business preparations before what would really be considered last minute.

"Little girl? You alive?" a voice questioned again. I shifted and peeked through the body's hair.

A kid - more of a teenager - leaned into the alley. He was better off than me, if his shoes and coat said anything, but he still appeared thin and sharp, so I knew he was from the streets as well. His mousy hair was dusted with white. He eyed me underneath the stiff child, but ultimately ignored it. I was secretly grateful for his lack of judgement.

"Let's get out of here," he declared, flicking his wrist to out of the alley and down the street. "C'mon, there's something down here you might want to see."

He vanished down the street before I registered what he'd said. I'd gone months without speaking to anyone, and my Japanese had deteriorated until nearly the point of non-existent. I should have been practicing the whole time, if I'd been smart, but I spent too much energy focused on surviving to do that. Understanding it was easier than speaking it at least.

That was kind of an excuse; it was a difficult thing to learn, so I avoided it. It was that simple.

My mind raced to solve the puzzle that the teenager had just presented me. He just expected me to follow him even when he gave me no explanation as to where or why? He barely said anything at all, and I certainly found no reason to abandon my cozy…

I thought about his words. He'd referred to us as one in the same, saying 'Let's get out of here'. It was a simple trick; he was installing in me that he was an ally and not an enemy. 'You should get out of here,' didn't sound as friendly.

Some invisible force, perhaps 'curiosity', or perhaps disgust with myself, made my arms set the body on the ground so that I could slip out and rise to my feet. Normally, I never would have trusted him. I supposed I just didn't want to spend another night wrapped in a corpse. Shivering, I followed the teenager's footprints out of the alley. It was the first time I'd left my niche, further than the trash can, in two weeks.

It took me a few minutes to track the path he had taken, but when I reached the end, I felt duped. He was nowhere to be seen. Figuring that he had tricked me out of the alley so that he could claim it for himself, I turned around to give up. I don't think I would've gone back to the alley, but staying out in the open was definitely something that I didn't want. There was no protection from the wind, nor the eyes of certain people that were even more desperate than I was.

I'm not sure how I noticed anything with my lack of focus, but two tiny children caught my attention. They were obviously in similar situations as me, with their little clothes and dirty faces. They weren't together, rather, they were in near opposite ends of the market square. This was what raised a red flag in me; three beggars in the open at the same time? A mysterious man gathering them?

The same force as before made me stay in the market square, even though my gut screamed at me to hide. I tried my best to appear inconspicuous, which wasn't very hard because the few people out and about obviously couldn't be bothered by a little girl. That was fine by me. As the seconds turned to minutes, I grew more and more determine to discover what was happening.

There was a group of us - a small one - gathering discreetly and slowly. It was made entirely of street rats, myself included. There were about ten of us, wandering the streets in a 100 meter area. At this time, as the early morning trickle of people transformed into the noon rush, I began to catch glimpses of the teenager again. He weaved through the busy stalls before disappearing again, and a few moments later a new street rat would wander into the square. This continued in its eerie pattern until night fell, and the crowd fell with it. There must have been thirty children, at the highest point. Some were lost to distrust and some to confusion. I stayed to see the end of this matter. I also had nowhere to go, because I'd somehow promised myself I'd never go back to the old alley, even if it was very desirable. Of course, there were several normals that noticed the kids loitering about. I got shooed and pelted with rocks about three times. They were probably fearful that we were joining forces to steal from them. I didn't blame them. Besides, they probably wouldn't try to investigate further. The best thing for them to do would be to ignore it and focus on protecting themselves.

I'd spent the entire day training my eyes to catch the mousy haired boy, and finding him in the watered down crowd was surprisingly easy now. I saw him slip down a dirt road with a flick of his wrist; he wanted us to follow. Three kids stayed behind to return to wherever they had been rotting away before. The rest of us silently made our way to follow the older kid's track.

* * *

><p>Kirigakure was a really big island. The unfortunate aspect of this was, while rough waters proved somewhat of a natural barrier, there were many directions from which enemies could invade. Shinobi in the land of Water had to be especially tough and cold to discourage attacks, for who would want to go up against the 'Bloody Mist'? While the major ports were heavily guarded and secured against invaders, there evidently were some weak points.<p>

We trailed after the mousy boy through the village gates. There had been a hidden door that had no visible seams when it was closed. I wondered how he had no trouble finding it. Four children never even dared to leave the village.

"I'm not stupid," a brave boy with black hair spoke up, adamantly refusing to slip through the door. "I know what the punishment for leaving the village illegally is. Have fun getting caught."

Two more children slipped back through the opening before the teenager sealed it for good, because of the boy's words.

The teenager shrugged at them. "Do what you like, but just remember: You saw nothing today."

The teenager lead the rest of the children and me through the bordering forest. It wasn't a large one, but the walk was terrible. My feet were unprotected, like many others, and suffered wounds from fallen branches and jagged stones. At one point, a little girl who was no more than five tripped and scraped her knee. Instead of getting back up like she could have - it wasn't that bad of a fall - she just sat there. She made no move to rise as the rest of us trudged onwards. It was just another child who'd given up on this wild goose-chase.

Our journey finally ended at a completely abandoned dock. A small ship - it was at least too big to be called a boat - rocked in the murky water. A cabin on its back was boarded and locked up tight. Twenty children stared at it in a mixture of expectancy and fear.

The teenager turned towards us, apparently deeming it safe to explain whatever it was he was up to now that we were out of the village. The kids didn't talk or converse, but sobs, sniffles, and sceptical scoffs were shot left and right, only to be ignored.

"I'm only going to say this once; if you want to rot and waste away like trash on the streets, head back the way we came right now. If you feel like living for a while - at least for a little bit longer - come with me."

The children went dead silent as five more were lost to distrust. No one else moved as their pathetic, too-skinny forms disappeared back down the trail and back to the village. With our lower number, it was easier to count how many of us were actually there. Sixteen, The teenager speculated us with brown eyes that told me he wasn't going to sugar coat anything.

He continued, "Well, it's your choice. Don't blame me when this is over." He opened up and turned around to point at the ship. "This is your way out, to a new life. It will also be your home for the next week. We're going on a trip."

Being surprised and arguing were extremely difficult things to do when you were so hungry. Your brain doesn't process things quickly and your willpower seems to be gone. That was why none of us children felt like disobeying him. Well, the prospect of a new life was probably also considered.. We lined up single-file (not because we were organized, but because the dock was too small to accommodate for anymore than that simultaneously) and followed him on the dock and into the boat. It felt much smaller on the inside than how it looked on the outside, and the sheer number of bodies shoved in made it even more crowded. However, there was still a decent amount of space to move about, and at least we wouldn't be cold.

When most of us were settled, I began to notice several other teenagers - no, actual men this time - guard the entrances. There were at least three others, and they were much older than their spokesman, who returned to the front of the crowd.

"There's no going back now," he addressed us, "so I guess it's time for an introduction."

I gasped when his hand formed a fist with his pointer and middle finger up: a hand sign. I didn't know what it meant exactly, but I knew it had something to do with canceling Jutsu. Sure enough, a cloud of smoke erupted and enveloped the teen. I held my breath as it began to dissipate, revealing a man, like his teammates. He must have been in his early or mid thirties, with dull brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. A straight scar marred the side of his lips like a 'T" on its side, like a hammer, making his ordinary face much more memorable. His eyes were hard but sympathetic, like he had seen a tragedy but he had been expecting it. He wore a green flack jacket, and had a sheathed Katana strapped to his back. I was mostly interested with his forehead, wear a standard Hitai-ate was fastened proudly.

Konoha. My mouth ran dry, but I was unsure as to whether is was because I was scared or excited. Why would Konoha Nin gather Kiri orphans and shove them on a boat?

"My name is Hayama Shirakumo, and I am a Shinobi from the land of Fire." He glanced at some of our tired, dirty, thin faces, noticing the lack of fire in our eyes. "Konoha isn't like Kiri," he nearly spat. "When we see atrocious actions, we do something to help. The land of Water is no place for anyone to live, especially not children."

Hope made my heart feel light, like it was flying. Help. Help. Help.

The boat creaked underneath our feet and began to lurch forward. We were leaving Kirigakure, leaving the Land of Water.

I had never been so happy and relieved in this new life. Exchanging Kiri for Konoha? It was like a dream, almost too good to be true.I glanced at my fellow children, curious as to whether they would share the same enthusiasm and hope. They didn't of course, since they didn't know any better. They'd never seen how much kinder Konoha was, at least at a shallow depth. It was better than Kiri, though, easily.

"I apologize for our lack of explanation, but I hope you will come to understand. Infiltrating a fellow hidden village is tricky business," Hayama went on. I could certainly understand. From what I recalled from the Anime, the Hidden Villages were often out for blood for each other, before Naruto's era. Even this small infiltration could be grounds for war. But now the Shinobi didn't have to withhold as much information anymore, since we couldn't exactly sneak off of the ship and swim back to the Island to tattle on them to the Mizukage. "Just know that the orphanage in Konoha is willing to take care of you all, and their adoption rates have recently risen tremendously. In fact, there's quite a good chance for children your ages."

As Hayama spoke, gears began to click in my head. He was using another of his subtle speech patterns to persuade our opinions without us even realizing it. He was painting a beautiful picture of Konoha, but he was doing so dryly, a good match for cynical audiences. If he sugar coated it too much, children like us wouldn't buy it. Beautiful things meant death to us.

But why was he using deceitful tactics to make us like Konoha? Was I just overthinking things? But I knew how the Leaf was, and he could gush about how wonderful it was without lying. Why be sneaky? Hayama had mentioned the orphanage, and adoptions… I went pale with realization.

They weren't saving us out of the goodness of their hearts, they were recruiting us. Children who were taught young could make good, expendable, Ninja. Suddenly I didn't feel so privileged and smart in regards to my reaction to being 'saved'. Ever since I had been reborn, I'd been thinking of myself as better and smarter than the inhabitants of this world, which had been unfair and condescending. Why did knowing the past and future make me better than them? And even without such information, these children - real children, not just reverted adults - were surviving just like me. Their jaded reactions were based upon a survival instinct that I never had to initiate. And whether or not they had come to the same conclusion as me, they most likely still suspected that something was up. It turned out that I was the naïve one. It was a wonder I was still alive in this world.

Hayama explained that the trip to Konoha would take about a week on boat and another three days on foot through the land of Fire. Until then, he and his men would guide us, feed us, and protect us. Despite their hidden intentions, hearing such things seemed like a luxury.

The Konoha nin distributed tightly rolled blankets to each kid. Luckily, there was enough space in the cabin for everyone to unroll them fully without overlapping them, although just barely. Soon after, a crate of pears was slid through the door. The Shinobi barely had time to pry it open before sixteen hungry children raided it. Some of them grabbed two, others grabbed three. I took four. After going around four years without eating something so wonderful and juicy, I instantly associated pears as my favorite food.

The air in the ship was growing lighter and happier with full bellies. With great surprise, I began to notice some of the children begin to socialize. New acquaintances were made and blankets were rearranged when someone decided who they trusted enough to sleep by. At least, trusted more than the others.

I was too exhausted to speak to anyone, and translating my English thoughts into a language i was never properly taught would take too much energy. I curled up in my blanket, and hit the deck.

I had just lectured myself about being too naïve, and here I had just been the first one to fall asleep. Frankly, I was too heavy with a full stomach to care.

Just before unconsciousness overcame me, another realization rose to the surface.

'ROOT isn't disbanded until after the Uchiha Massacre…'

My mind went black.

* * *

><p>I awoke with thoughts similar to those I had fallen asleep to. The impending danger of Danzo and his ROOT organization loomed in our future. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Danzo probably had a squad of operatives that he used to play the expandable roles. Why would a man who only had the best intentions for the village, as the Manga insisted, send off Konoha-born villagers to their death? That didn't seem like protecting the village. The village was its people, not the buildings or landmarks. I was pretty sure Hayama wasn't any sort of ANBU, from his attire, and must have been sent by the Third Hokage, but Hiruzen Sarutobi was well aware of the Organization's existence, so I found no comfort in Hayama's affiliation. I vowed to myself that I would do whatever it took to avoid the Organization.<p>

I opened my eyes to discover that I had not been woken naturally. Hayama leaned over me, gently shaking my shoulders. The sun was not up yet, so the only source of light was a lantern hung by the doorway. The only sounds that were heard were the soft crashes of rolling waves and the occasional creak in the floorboards. Hayama placed his finger to his lips for silence, and then he motioned at me to follow him. I had no intention of causing trouble, so I immediately slipped out of my blanket and padded after him as he exited the cabin into the freezing night air. I seemed to be following this one man an awful lot.

The spray of the ocean hit me like sleet. I still had no shoes, and the wet deck was not improving my toes' condition. Hayama thankfully didn't expect us to speak out here. He motioned me into another room adjacent to the cabin. Inside was light and warm from lanterns. I could see a wheel used for steering - I wasn't quite sure what they were called on boats - and concluded that this was the captain's quarters.

"Thank you for being quiet. I didn't want to wake any of the other children. It could potentially cause some unwanted attention for you," Hayama began. I just nodded mutely. My groggy brain was taking its time with comprehension, and I must have looked like a fish out of water. Hayama placed his hand on my shoulder kindly. "I wanted to speak to you about your Chakra."

"My… Chakra?" I echoed, wondering at the same time how strange even my own voice sounded.

Hayama nodded. "Do you know what that is?"

I hesitated. Would someone like me know what Chakra was? Possibly… But I kind of wanted a very in-depth explanation of the stuff. What was the way the children of this world were taught about it?

"No sir, I don't," I half-lied. I knew about it, yes, but probably not in the way that he did. For instance, I had never even felt my own Chakra. Sakura's rundown of physical and spiritual energy I read over four years ago wasn't exactly helpful as of now.

Hayama didn't seem surprised as he said, "Chakra is an energy force that flows through a system in the body, like blood. Some have more than others, but everyone has it. However, I cannot sense any from you at all, which leads me to wonder where it is. If it's alright with you, I'd like to check to see if there's a seal."

"A seal?" I reiterated. What did he mean, he couldn't sense my Chakra? I'd never felt it myself, but I'd figured that it was so natural and integrated into my body that it was difficult to differentiate from normal body functions. Could it really just be sealed away?

"Such a thing could not only hide your Chakra, but eventually eat away at it until it's permanently gone, which could be very dangerous to you. You'll ruin your immune system and your senses will be dulled to extreme levels... "

"But why would there be a Seal on me in the first place, if it's so dangerous?" I reasoned, unsure of how one had ever gotten there. Who would put one there? My parents weren't Shinobi…

Actually, I didn't know that for sure. Mother was from the Yuki clan, and from what I know about clans, they tend to train their young as soon as possible. Could mother have sealed away my chakra to hide any traces of her heritage? Why could Haku use his Chakra, then? Had she only sealed me? That didn't make sense… Haku was a genius, so maybe he just broke the seal on his own. Mother had meet father while she was fairly young, so I couldn't imagine that she was a fantastic ninja who could had trained for her entire life. Her seal couldn't have been very strong. Then again, I didn't know for sure if she was the one who had sealed me, or if I was even sealed at all.

"That's difficult to say, but I would guess it was someone with good intentions. If they were trying to harm you, there are easier ways to go about it," Hayama pointed out. "Regardless of how it got there, I think that it's in your best interest to have it released as soon as possible. If you'd like, I can perform a removal myself. It will just have to be another day or two before we try. As of now, we may be too close to the Land of Water. Any sudden activation of powerful Jutsu could alert the enemy of our presence," he explained. I nodded in understanding, thanking him sincerely as I dismissed myself and made my way to the door. After this talk, I had more questions now than ever, and I still hadn't learned more about Chakra. I had one foot out of the door before I stopped dead in my tracks.

I was such a selfish bitch! I'd forgotten all about trying to find my brother. Now, heading to Konoha, I would never find him. Maybe he was dead already, just because of my existence. Maybe he'd been killed that night our home was burned down because he'd used himself as a decoy for my escape. Or maybe he'd survived that ordeal, only to exert too much energy one day looking for me. Maybe he'd starved before Zabuza found him. Maybe they would never meet because Haku hadn't gone to that side of the village.

_Anything_ could have completely changed his fate.

And I had forgotten about him to the prospect of getting to Konoha.

"Are you alright?" Hayama questioned. I jumped at his voice, breaking away from my thoughts.

"U-um…" I started, my mouth dry. "Well, you see, my brother is still in Kirigakure…" I trailed off, hoping that he would understand what I was trying to say when not even I knew. Was I asking him to turn the ship around? Was I asking him send someone to look for Haku?

Hayama just patted my shoulder and gave me a sympathetic look. He didn't seem like someone to give such looks often, but I was a child after all.

"Your brother… Did he have dark hair?"

I blinked in surprise, my mouth dropping open. "Yes! He looks nothing like me, but he's my brother!" Did this mean Hayama would send someone for Haku? Why else would he need a description? My heart soared. Maybe I could finally do something for my brother.

Hayama closed his eyes in difficulty. "I'm… very sorry for your loss." It was all he said before he released my shoulder and turned around, disappearing in a flash. This conversation was over.

Numbly, I opened the door and stepped out into the freezing air again. I slipped back into the cabin, barely noticing that the other children were still asleep even as the morning sun peaked from the horizon. I carefully stepped around feet and heads, crawling back into my blanket, shivering. Even though I was out of the wind and spray, I was still cold.

Hayama had said he was sorry for my loss… Did that mean Haku was dead? How would he even know? But he'd known what he looked like…

I feel asleep for a second time with lost and confused tears pouring down my cheeks.

It didn't occur to me until the next day that Hayama must have thought that my 'brother' was the boy with gloves in the alley. So much for helping Haku.

* * *

><p>Morning was bleak and tedious to me, but by the time I'd eaten my breakfast - apples, this time - I was feeling a little less blue. Food made people happy, it was a fact.<p>

Just like the night before, I snatched my share of fruit and retreated to my square of blanket to sit on. I watched by myself as a group of four or so kids started up a game of tag, or some variation of the game. More and more joined until the majority of the kids were playing. I was content with watching, simply munching on my apples (I was actually full enough to be satisfied with just two). I didn't know where they got all their energy, because I was beat. I use to think of myself as a morning person, but now I felt like a grouch.

I was tapped on the shoulder. I looked up to see a girl standing at my side, looking down at me. She was tall for her age, which was probably around five5, with skinny arms and knobby knees. Her face was smudged with dirt and her silver hair needed a good combing, but she grinned at me like all was well. I probably looked just as bad.

"Wanna play?" She asked, referring to the game. I recognized her as one of the original four players. I offered a smile, even though I knew it didn't reach my eyes. I silently shook my head; I was refusing, but not rudely. She just huffed and crossed her arms in good nature. "It's fun, c'mon!" She attempted to persuade me. Haku had been the only child that I'd ever really spoken to, and it was weird hearing the short, simple sentences of a real, non-genius child.

"I am sorry," I apologized at her hurt expression. "I don't know how to play," I fibbed, hoping she'd leave me to myself. She just grinned even wider.

"It's easy!" She pulled me to my feet, ignoring my reluctance. "Ganta is 'It'," she pointed to a small, lithe boy with spiky brown hair. "Just don't let him tag you, or you'll have to be 'It' with him. The last person to be tagged wins!"

"Uh…" I stuttered eloquently, standing there like a real twenty-eight year-old. I was dragged to the other children, even when I tried to assure her that I was okay with just sitting by myself. I wasn't the only one, either, so it really wasn't as lonely as they thought, not that that really mattered to me. I was planted in the designated game boundaries, or rather, the area where the kids had folded up their blankets for space. No one had to worry about walking on people here because they were all up and playing.

"Take enough time, Miyuki?" Ganta questioned as we approached him, amused. The girl, Miyuki, stuck her tongue out in a mature fashion.

"You were the one that wanted her here," she teasingly reminded him, making kissing noises behind a cupped hand, not intending for me to know. I could both hear and see it, but I didn't tell her otherwise.

Ganta turned vermillion. "I didn't me it like that, Stupid! She just looked sad!" He crossed his arms.

Miyuki nudged me. "So, are you going to tell us your name, or do we have to guess?"

"Oh. I'm Saori," I told her. Much to my relief, the two only nodded and switched to topic to something other than me.

"So are you good on the rules?" Miyuki asked. I nodded hesitantly.

"Never mind, let's just get started," Ganta muttered. Before we had time to comprehend his words, he reached out, catching Miyuki on the arm that held onto me. "Tag!" he called, darting off after some nearby daredevils who had wandered too close to him. They pretended to scream in fear, teasingly calling Ganta frightening.

Miyuki, still stunned, stared at her arm where she had been tagged. She trailed down her wrist and locked her gaze where we were joined.

"Tag?" she called uncertainly.

"Uh… I suppose?" I admitted. Miyuki was 'It', and now she was touching me. Rules are rules. She gave me a wolfish grin, nudging my attention to a boy too distracted by Ganta to realize how close he had wandered by us. Miyuki released my arm and pounced. Unfortunately for her, she called "Tag!" prematurely. The boy spun and dodged her just in time.

I was close enough to touch him now, so I did. "Tag," I said quietly.

"Aw man!" he laughed, running off again.

Miyuki cheered. "Nice teamwork!"

"You didn't do any of the work!" Ganta chastised from across the room, still pursuing another boy. He'd so far gotten two other tags, and they were helping him corner some of the remaining kids.

"I did too!" Miyuki insisted.

"Nu-uh!"

"Ya-huh!"

"She chased him to me," I admitted, "I hardly moved." I offered the girl a shy smile. She stuck her tongue out at Ganta again.

* * *

><p>The game didn't last too long after that. It turned out that Ganta was a formidable opponent, with great speed and strategies. I didn't make any more contributions to the game, but I did stick around by Miyuki's side. She was a social butterfly, and she talked to nearly everyone in the room. She was headstrong and abrasive, but she was far from mean. She was likeable and charismatic without trying to be, which was very refreshing. As I trailed behind this girl as she spoke to the other children, these street rats suddenly grew personalities and names. They were actual children to me now. I couldn't decide if that was a goo thing yet, but I hoped it was.<p>

Lunch was dried jerky and nuts. I sat on my blanket again, far away from the fun, but Miyuki managed to rearrange hers so that she was next to me. I guess I was growing on her as much as she was growing on me. She apparently did the same for Ganta's blanket, and the three of us ate together. Well, the two of them ate together, and I ate next to them. I didn't exactly converse with them like they were probably hoping I would, but… It was nice. I mean, two little five and four year-olds were kind of annoying, but they weren't unbearably so. They were actually kind of cute. I'd never been a kid person, but these were relatively mature children who had been through and had seen some pretty harrowing stuff. They would probably grow up to be more mature than I ever was, in either of my lives.

"You sure eat a lot, Saori," Miyuki snorted, teasing me.

Ganta voiced his agreement, snatching a nut out of my hand, attempting to rile me up so that I would laugh.

* * *

><p>I didn't do anything to retaliate. I could only stare. I'd seen something that I hadn't noticed before.<p>

Ganta donned a pair of grubby black gloved with very familiar holes.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for the Beautiful reviews! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!<strong>

**I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes! **

**Please leave a review on your way out!**

**~Mao**


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